I felt the familiar tingle in my hands, and at the base of my skull, my stomach was rolling as a chill ran down my spine, even in dreams I always know when a spirit is around. I slowly open my eyes and to see I am not in my Kansas anymore.

I was somewhere I did not instantly recognize the light was dim and yellow, I couldn't make out much of what was around me.

The air was stale and stank of old sweat and something tangy, my nose wrinkled in protest. My eyes scanned the room trying to make out something aside from the faded green walls, with their wallpaper peeling. Faintly I saw a doorway ahead of me.

Putting all my senses on high alert I started towards the doorway. Once I was there I could see that it lead to a hallway which was in shrouded in darkness.

I took a step back; a small voice in the back of my head started screaming to stay away from the darkness my stomach rolled hard, almost gagging me, my fingers felt froze-bitten.

Freezing water must have been poured over my head and back the only way to explain the chill I felt running through me. Not wanting to turn my back on the door I backed up slowly, not even daring to look away from.

I sense something too late and backed myself into a chair, falling into it when the back of my knees hit. Tearing my eyes from the slightly still visible doorway, I looked around me, I was sitting at a table that was not here moments ago.

Feeling fear works it's nasty through me, seizing my heart into its grip; squeezing every few beats. Something bumped the table slightly, my heart jumps to my throat. I felt my blood turn to ice as I turned and looked across the table coming face to face with a - er a man, I think.

His face was mostly purple and black and his lips sewn shut, his eyes were black. The more I stared at him, the more frozen I became, I couldn't look away and oddly enough, I was ok with that. Somewhere deep down I knew he meant me no harm. Convincing my mind of that was a different story.

My mind could not process anything else about him just his face. Warning bells went off somewhere far away in my head. He looked into my eyes and fear's hold on my heart tightened to the point I was afraid my heart would be dust.

He slowly placed his hands on the table, they were also purple and black, his nails were caked in dirt and filed to a point. I was really starting to panic, and I wanted to run I didn't know to where but that was my instinct.

I quickly realized I couldn't move.

All I could do was look down at my legs and back at the man, he nodded at me then. He picked up his left hand and tapped it on the table once and nodded his head again. Then he tapped the table twice and shook his head.

I was even more confused.

I tried to wipe my face with my hand as I struggled to figure out what this spirit wanted. But yet again my limbs wouldn't work, sighing I looked back up at the man. I guess I'm going to have to talk it out with him.

"Do you want to talk?" I could not keep the tremor out of my voice, I was scared like never before. I just stared at him, unsure of what else to do. His knuckles rapped on the table quickly. Thinking on my toes for another yes or no question.

"Ok, do you want me to help you" I couldn't help but wince when I asked him. Again his knuckles rapped the table.

How in the world was I suppose to help him?

How could I?

There was something very different about him. Something unsettling, and dark.

"Do I need to stay here?" He tapped twice, and I sighed before I could stop myself. The air around me got colder. It was the first question that came to mind and I honestly didn't know how much I didn't want to stay here until he said I didn't have to.

"Is it what happened to you?" That's usually it. His knuckles dragged across the table twice. Shock ran through me, what could he possibly want help with then.

"So you already know who did that to you?"The words flew from my mouth before I even had the chance to think about them. The room became a walk-in, I could see my breath cloud in front of me.

Oopsie looks like that hit a sore spot. I stared at his mouth, I mean I already offended him might as well keep going.

Whoever did it, started off with very clean stitches, but closer to the middle, the stitches begin to look jagged, rushed, some look like they were done slowly. Why had he not fought at the beginning but at the end? As if giving me a moment to appreciate him, his face twitched as if he tried to smile and he knocked once on the table.

He seemed proud for some reason. Staring at him it started to fell into place.

I gasped and if I could have I would have rocked in my seat. I looked up at him in horror, unable to control my face. He straightens his body, head held high, a menacing vibe was radiating off of him.

"You did it to yourself?" I didn't even try to hide the horror in my voice. I asked knowing the answer even before his index finger tapped on the table.

I closed my eyes as disgust run its course through me, and I hoped for a moment I would wake up.

I slowly opened one eye and for just a second I swore he was wearing a smile that would make any Cheshire cat envious.

When I had opened both eyes he was back to being Stitches.

As I sat there drowning in the knowledge that was flooding my little brain. He raised his hand and waved it gesturing for me to continue with his little game.

Okay Theresa, think. What in the bloody hell could this....this demon wants your help with?

"Is whatever you want me to do, finding someone?" I asked on a whim. He loses some of his confidence, shook his head side to side and tapped the table once.

Then he brought his other hand into view and turned it sideways slightly, trying to say so so, or not really.

I'm more confused about how can it be finding someone. Looking around the room searching for a piece of paper, something for him to write on assuming he could write.

There looks to be a tiny itty bitty piece on the floor to my left but that won't help at all. Aside from that, it was too dark in here to see anything else.

"I wish it was brighter in here," I say mostly to myself. Giving up on my search for paper, I look at Stitches. The room slowly gets brighter, not a whole hell of a lot but enough for me to see around a bit better.

I surveyed the room now and now know I would prefer it dark.

Did he make it brighter?

Who or what was sitting across from me?

Testing a theory I looked at him again.

"I wish we had a pad of paper." I half whispered.

"Also a pen," I added as an afterthought.

Pretending to be busy looking around the room, "thinking" I was watching him out of the corner of my eye.

He didn't move or anything but a pad and pen appeared on the table. When I stopped playing pretend and faced forward, he picked up the pen. I smiled weakly, not sure if I should trust this or not.

The warning bells have not stopped going off. The uneasy feeling has not subsided either.

"Will you tell me why you brought me here?" I choose my words carefully, minded my tone to the best of my capabilities.

He was being pleasant no need to go and ruin that and wind up staying here forever. He nodded and began to write, and he wrote and he wrote.

It felt like years had passed before he slides the pad that had turned into a book at some point, across the table to me.

He placed his hand on top of mine, as I grabbed for it. My eyes jerked from the pad to his face and he simply shook his head, released my hand and leaned back. Nodding his head in my direction he snapped his fingers and I woke up.

Looking straight up at the ceiling of our hotel room, I felt someone laying next to me, the raise and fall of their chest as they breathed. Not really caring about them I shoot up as quickly as I could.

Maybe, a little too fast as my head started to dance around the room, little white stars danced across my line of sight. I looked at my hands which were empty, much to my disappointment.

I just sat there trying to sort out what in the actual hell just happened. I was pretty sure Stitches was real, or at least had once been a real person.

Who would see their own mouth shut and why?

I couldn't fathom a reason for something like that to myself. I paced around the room for a bit before I realized it was nighttime.

The room was dark a faint light coming through the curtain, probably from the hotel sign. I guess they decided to not wake me and make me face my mama and family again. That was for the best, I didn't want to see them anyways. I and nothing more to say to them, at this moment.

I paced and paced until my legs grew tired and my feet became sore.

I even woke up Xander who just sat up and watched me pace. He didn't say a word but his eyes follow my every step.

Too much was banging around in my head for me to think; words that had been exchanged with mama, things that were done to me in Hell, my visit with Stitches.

Eventually, it all became too much for me to chew on and I sat down on the edge of the bed, the bed groaned in response to my weight.

I took solace in the quiet Xander offered, he knew when to talk. Maybe even more importantly he knew when not to. I got my mind to quiet to a dull roar, much better than the deafening screech it was.

I rearranged myself on the bed and leaned against the pillows. I tried to count sheep, it didn't work I got to 357 before I gave up. I stared at the ceiling but I could feel Xander's eyes drilling holes into the side of my face.

Without a word spoken between us, I scooted over and l leaned against him my head on his shoulder. He slowly wrapped his arm around me, my head slides slightly so it was laying on his chest.

"Why didn't we go back to my Mama's?" I eventually break the silence with my croaky voice. I turned my head so I could look at Xander's face.

"We couldn't wake you up. I tried for like, a half hour I did everything short of pouring water on you. Cass tried too, it was like you were in a coma. You didn't even twitch." From my angle, I could see all kinds of emotion pass across his face as he talked.

He didn't look at me, he just looked straight ahead.

I chewed over what he said. This has never occurred before, I thought about it for a moment. I wondered if maybe Stitches kept me in my dream. If he could do that, I could only imagine the extent of his power. I couldn't decide if I should tell Xander now or if I should wait until morning.

Maybe I could dream and turn the tables on Stitches. I still felt weak and slightly unme since the night at the plantation. I had been doing some reading and I think I need to realign my energies and recharge myself. I hope I have enough of my, my.....

Whatever it is that makes it so I'm able to do all that I do.

Perhaps Xander or your father's book could help us. With both Stitches and our lack of juice.

I fidget trying to work up the courage.

Which is a laugh considering my encounter with Stitches?

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I counted to three.

"Xander, I got some things to tell you..."